Erie Gardner - The Case of the Lazy Lover

She broke off at the sight of Mason.

For a moment, she and Pat faced each other. Then the elder woman said, “I’m sorry. I guess I have the wrong apartment. I...”

“Come on in, Mrs. Allred,” Mason said. “One would hardly take you for Pat’s mother. You look more like her sister.”

She smiled and said, “It’s a nice opening line. I’ve heard it before. Aren’t you keeping Pat up rather late?”

Mason said, “It isn’t a line and it isn’t flattery. You might call it a professional appraisal of an article of merchandise I may have to sell to a jury.”

Patricia closed the door. “Perry Mason, Mother.”

“Oh!” she said in a single sharp exclamation.

“We’re having a drink,” Patricia went on. “You must be cold.”

“I’m numb,” her mother admitted.

“I’ll fix you one.”

Mrs. Allred smiled vaguely at Mason, hesitated a moment, then followed her daughter into the kitchen.

“Have any trouble getting in?” Patricia asked.

She said, “The night man at the desk was a little dubious, but I flashed him a smile and walked directly to the elevator with all of the assurance in the world. He finally decided I belonged here.”

“There’s ice there in the refrigerator, Mother. You want bourbon and soda?”

“That’s right.”

Mason could hear the gurgle of liquid, the clink of ice in a glass, then the sibilants of swift whispers.

The lawyer settled back in his chair, lit a cigarette, inhaled deeply, arose politely when the two women reentered the room.

“Got it all fixed up?” Mason asked.

“What?” Patricia asked. “The drink?”

“No. The story.”

Patricia glared at him. Both women sat down.

Mason said, “You can beat around the bush if you want to. I don’t know how much time we have.”

Patricia said, “I told Mr. Mason about Bob Fleetwood, Mother. He knows how things are.”

Mrs. Allred said, “After all, Mr. Mason, I have nothing to conceal. I found accommodations at a little tourist camp up in the mountains. I had previously telephoned my husband where we would be, and he said he was coming up to join us.”

“Did he?”

She hesitated.

“Go on,” Mason said. “Let’s hear the story.”

She said, “Bob and I had a couple of drinks, killing time and waiting. Then Bob excused himself to go to the bathroom. He was in there quite a while. After a while I called to him to find out if he was all right. There was no answer. The door was locked from the inside.

“I was in a panic. I thought perhaps he’d taken something, or — well, you know, it could have been suicide.”

“But it wasn’t?”

“He had the key to the other cabin. I ran around to try the outside door of that cabin. It was open. The bathroom door on that side was open. He hadn’t stopped in the bathroom at all. He’d locked the door to my side, walked right on through, gone out the other door, taken my car and driven away.”

“Didn’t you hear your car when it drove away?” Mason asked.

“I heard it, but thought it was some other tenant. I didn’t have any idea it was my car. I’d left it parked in the driveway.”

“Where did he go?”

“I don’t know.”

“What did you do?”

“I walked out to the road,” she said, “and hitchhiked in. I don’t want to have that experience again.”

“How about your luggage?”

She said, “I had a small suitcase with me. I’d taken it out because there was a flask of whisky in it. We were waiting for Bertrand to join us.”

“Did Fleetwood know that?”

“Yes.”

“Had he recovered his memory?”

“No. He was all right otherwise, but he hadn’t recovered his memory.”

“And what about your husband?”

“I don’t know what happened to him, Mr. Mason. He never did show up.”

“You didn’t wait to find out, did you?”

“He was long overdue when Bob took the car. I... well, I don’t know what happened.”

“Did you try calling your house?”

“Yes. Of course.”

“What happened?”

“There was no answer.”

“No servants?”

“They sleep over the garage. They wouldn’t answer a phone at night.”

“So then you went out to the highway and hitchhiked back?”

“Yes.”

“Get the name of the motorist who took you in?”

“Motorist s ,” she said, making an exaggerated “s” sound. “That s-s-s-s-s stands for plural. There were three of them in succession. The last man was an old man.”

“Did he drive you directly here?”

“No. He got me in to where I could get a taxicab, however.”

“And your suitcase? Were you lying about leaving it in the car?”

“I left it at the depot. I checked it because I thought I might have some trouble getting in here with a suitcase. I thought I could walk in and get to Pat’s apartment all right, if I didn’t have a suitcase. If I did have, I knew I’d be stopped and have to make explanations.”

“Why didn’t you want to explain?”

“I wasn’t ready.”

“Why didn’t you go home?”

“Because I... because I was afraid to.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. It was just a hunch I had. I wanted to be with Pat.”

“You telephoned your husband earlier in the evening and told him where you would be?”

“That’s right.”

“And he was to come right up?”

“As soon as he could get away. He said he’d be up about ten o’clock.”

“And how about Pat?”

“What about her?”

“Did you telephone her?”

For a moment, there was silence.

Mason said, “Of course, the police will check the calls.”

“What do the police have to do with it?”

“I don’t know,” Mason said, and then added significantly, “yet.”

“I don’t see where it needs to concern the police at all.”

“How many drinks had Fleetwood had?”

“A couple. We didn’t start drinking until after dinner. I guess it was about nine o’clock when we started drinking.”

“Were they loaded pretty heavy?”

“He seemed to be pretty thirsty,” she admitted. “I held him down as much as I could.”

“How big a flask?”

“A pint.”

“Any left in it?”

“No.”

“Did you telephone Pat?”

“Yes.”

“Ask Pat to come up?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I... I wasn’t certain that what I was doing was for the best. I wanted to have a showdown.”

“Tell your husband that over the telephone?”

“No. I didn’t phone Pat until nine o’clock, just before the office at the Snug-Rest closed up. Bob stole my car shortly after I called.”

“What did you tell Pat over the phone?”

“Just where I was, is all.”

“Ask her to come up?”

“Not directly.”

Mason looked at Patricia.

“I tried to call you,” she said. “You didn’t answer.”

“And why didn’t you call the Drake Detective Agency?”

“I thought I’d have a talk with Mother first.”

“Did you?”

“The cabin was empty when I got there.”

“You went in?”

“Yes.”

Mason turned to Mrs. Allred. “How long did it take you to get here?”

“I don’t know. I guess it was hours. Sometimes car after car would go by without stopping. Then the people who did stop seemed to want to go up the side roads. It was an experience I wouldn’t want to repeat. I’m a little hazy on the time element.”

“Yes,” Mason said drily, “I can see you are. You both are.”

Mason walked across to the telephone and was just about to pick up the receiver, when knuckles pounded on the door of the apartment.